We reach the end of a great year in music and crown a brand new AOTY winner:
1. Genesis Owusu SMILING WITH NO TEETH:
born in Ghana but based in Australia, Owusu’s music represents the type of dynamism and international flourishes one would expect from him given his life circumstances. But, even though he is from a very musical family—his older brother is Citizen Kay—the stunning thing about Smiling With No Teeth is how affirmed it is in its versatility and soul brother appeal. His is a style of the global chameleon: more soulful and funky than the super duo Silk Sonic on a track like Don’t Need You, more punk worthy than Injury Reserve on Drown and downright spellbinding than any contemporary US rapper on the stand-out The Other Black Dog. And that’s just the first half of a masterpiece album that doesn’t let up, ending on another album high Bye Bye. No year-end best albums list can be legitimate without including this tour-de-force and can only marvel what he has planned for what’s coming after this opening blast from him.
2. Remi Wolf JUNO:
it would be easy to initially discount Wolf’s aesthetics or to pin-hole her into kitsch pop but Juno is an army full of one woman’s pop vision juxtaposed to her every day battles just to exist and thrive. There’s a feminist streak here, even if’s not put forth like guerrilla tactics (think M.I.A.) but Wolf is smack down in the middle of Santi White’s politics and Tune-Yards’ outlandish pop odes. Yes, she is that modern cool bitch.
3. serpentwithfeet DEACON:
on Deacon, serpentwithfeet presents Black queer love and joy more as a series of little everyday moments than an all-consuming, mystical force. While vivid details and a Black queer foundation are nothing new for the Ty Dolla $ign and Björk collaborator—on “fragrant,” from his 2018 debut LP soil, he recalled asking all of his ex’s exes one by one to kiss him—the presence of unbridled joy and love on his sophomore album is a striking sea change. Where serpent mourned fizzling loves on soil and debut EP blisters, here, he hails the simple glories and everyday little moments of thriving Black queer romances. His perspective, though a stretch to read as some sort of overt or grand political statement, is a beaming needle in the ever-cluttered, often redundant haystack of romantic music. (PASTE)
4. Tyler, the Creator CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST:
when that piano and brass section pulsates behind Tyler on “RUNITUP,” you might think of the lingering horror orchestras that engulfed Wolf. Or when his vocal delivery on “LEMONHEAD” rushes and thrashes, you’re transported back to listening to a kid figuring himself out on Goblin. That’s the crowning achievement of this record—the way it sharply reminds every listener that the early entries in an artist’s discography are not parts of their past meant to be forgotten. For Tyler, the recklessness of his 20s did not leave him among the ruins of early-2010s hip-hop, but rather has helped make him a 30-year-old with a multi-million-dollar confidence and a Rolls Royce collection to flaunt—in an industry praying just to catch up. (PASTE)
5. Slowthai TYRON:
what can you do after being involved in controversy? You can fight and fuss about it. You can apologize. Or you can make an album that’s at least partially inspired by it. A year to the day after Slowthai was kicked out of the NME Awards, he chose the final option, and it worked. Childhood, adulthood, and regret are among the themes of the project, which encompasses two drastically different halves: the first, characterized by songs with ALL-CAPS titles, is aggressive, and the second, featuring songs with lowercase names, is more tranquil. In doing so, he creates a complete self-portrait of someone reckoning with the fire and ice of their soul, seeking out another chance inspired by the mistakes that they’ve grown from. (COMPLEX)
6. Taylor Swift EVERMORE:
allowing her own biography to fall to the background, Swift loosens her need for narrative resolution and emotional clarity, sometimes letting the music speak for her. (An uncharacteristic retraction in “Happiness”—“No, I didn’t mean that/Sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury”—suggests she’s striving toward more stoic, distanced writing.) The climactic “Marjorie” is named after her maternal grandmother, an opera singer who died during Swift’s adolescence. Over Dessner’s pulsing keyboard arrangement, her lyrics are fragmented, almost chant-like, composed from bits of memories, advice, and regrets. As Swift considers how legacy works, she offers the album’s most forthright summoning of a ghost: “You’re alive/So alive,” she sings. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now.” (PITCHFORK)
7. Snail Mail VALENTINE:
referring to the process as the deepest level of catharsis and therapy I have ever experienced would be a huge understatement,” Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan said of making her new album. That healing comes packaged in a blend of blistering rock and pensive singer/songwriter product that isn’t too far off from what we first heard of Jordan on Lush and even her Habit EP from 2016. The main difference on Valentine is Jordan’s newfound vocal confidence: She has perfected her singing voice to match her musical maturity, making Valentine more like Lush’s cool, assured older sister than simply a sequel. Undoubtedly one of the best songs of the year, the triumphant title/opening track, also the album’s lead single, finds Jordan beyond frustration while yearning for the ex who dumped her, or maybe just someone out of reach. The song’s grand scale works because it’s so easy to believe Jordan is as desperate as she sounds. Breakups aren’t just sad—they’re rage-inducing. “So why’d you wanna erase me?” she hollers through the tears, before adding, “You won’t believe what just two months do / I’m older now, believe me / I adore you.” (PASTE)
8. Clairo SLING:
Clairo writes music that finds you in places – geographical and mental – and takes you out of them for a few minutes. They are songs that follow you around, that play on the radio as you're driving on the motorway, or in a warm flat amongst a gathering of friends, something that sweetly permeates your stream of normalcy. (THE QUIETUS)
9. Big Red Machine HOW LONG DO YOU THINK IT’S GONNA LAST:
What’s interesting about the second Big Red Machine album is how un-experimental it sounds. Whereas the first Big Red Machine record consisted of esoteric sketches that felt like excerpts from long, heady jam sessions, How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? includes some of the most approachable and pop-oriented material that Aaron Dessner or Justin Vernon have ever produced. This can partly be attributed, of course, to the involvement of Taylor Swift, who along with suggesting the album title appears on the album’s most immediate track, “Renegades.” But the rest of the record is similarly melodic and warm, evincing little of the electro-indie dissonance of the recent output by The National and Bon Iver. (ENGLISHTIMES.UK)
10. Japanese Breakfast JUBILEE:
Michelle Zauner’s third album as Japanese Breakfast finds her shedding the sadness and trauma of her past, embracing joy and celebrating Jubilee. Upon its announcement, Zauner said of her follow-up to 2017’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet in a statement, “After spending the last five years writing about grief, I wanted our follow-up to be about joy. For me, a third record should feel bombastic and so I wanted to pull out all the stops for this one.” The soaring, yet densely layered Jubilee lives up to that billing: Zauner’s palette boasts more colors than ever—the yearning strings that conclude “Kokomo, IN,” the regal horn outro on “Slide Tackle,” the noise-rock crescendo of closer “Posing For Cars,” so much more—and her new masterpiece is abundantly vivid as a result. (PASTE)
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